tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60287404672864667432024-03-05T07:56:45.672-08:00On Call RN...The makings of an ICU NurseAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.comBlogger236125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-49761033495427705482016-06-22T14:28:00.000-07:002016-06-22T14:28:54.069-07:00Enough.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have heard people describe motherhood as if you forever have your heart walking outside of your body. I feel it's more akin to living life without skin on. Every part of my being feels every emotion so deeply. Every crack in my character glares at me. I have days where my inadequacies haunt me at every turn. Days where I feel incredibly resilient and utterly fragile all at once. I feel vulnerable to every whim of this tiny human being. That in this world we have so much pain and so much hurt I cannot shield him from. There is hatred and violence. People who bully, people who rape and murder and destroy. There is so much I cannot protect him from. There is so much I can't protect myself from. In a place where only the select few are created equal. Where sometimes we fall short and we cannot cure the evil around us. When it is up to me to bring the light into the dark world when sometimes I cannot see it myself. It is my job to point out the helpers, to raise a helper, and to be one too.</div>
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Motherhood has pushed me beyond what I ever thought I could do... could be. The ability to exist in all of my flaws. To live in vulnerability. To dare greatly. To exist wholeheartedly. To know somewhere in the depths of my soul that maybe... just maybe... <i>I am enough</i>. That in the midst of the mess, the heartache, the demolition of humanity... there is hope and I am enough. Do you hear that? <i>You are enough</i>.</div>
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That even in a world where very few things are in our control, the love we have, the time we give, it is sufficient. Even when everyone else says we should be more, do more, give more. That who we are... even when we are broken and flawed... it is enough. That even when it hurts, even when I feel raw and like my entire being is fragile and hanging on by a thread. Even when I am spent and exhausted, that being me is enough. To understand that it is okay to lean into the sadness, to feel the sharp edges, to dig in deep and know that you will be better for it. To know that the essence of motherhood is not letting the difficulties define you, but the ways in which you overcome shine more brightly and sound more loudly than the naysayers around you. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-10165826400156005482014-08-25T17:35:00.001-07:002014-08-25T19:12:16.747-07:00Bentley Two Months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBKXjX7xA0C-w1F1LYWGQlvZySw8pKAq52kR6zyLoS4bACEArKcRJub9aWVZDSNBseY2jKd5G0l8G1XYfUC-M53JnkTgzo9jiInYCuvh5ou30-0Kg5z92iQCXhLuSw97kClJjGx4NnGNp/s1600/2014-08-14+10.53.46-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBKXjX7xA0C-w1F1LYWGQlvZySw8pKAq52kR6zyLoS4bACEArKcRJub9aWVZDSNBseY2jKd5G0l8G1XYfUC-M53JnkTgzo9jiInYCuvh5ou30-0Kg5z92iQCXhLuSw97kClJjGx4NnGNp/s1600/2014-08-14+10.53.46-1.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Okay Folks... I cannot get over how flippin' cute my kid is so I am barraging you with a lot of his two month photos. I know I am biased and all but objectively I think he is really adorable. Especially in this vest. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1Ab5iC5KGriUX-vEJQqRjjPlGMPlodCknmme0BjCbuvnRzU92jJ-61tn3nP4nMeumVHD7Ld8GZ4u2dtaXb8V1VrynAhauEmy-BS1LZKXCJIPfRJI55HfYQQb65wBe0_EeUsTBqSravhR/s1600/2014-08-14+10.54.09-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1Ab5iC5KGriUX-vEJQqRjjPlGMPlodCknmme0BjCbuvnRzU92jJ-61tn3nP4nMeumVHD7Ld8GZ4u2dtaXb8V1VrynAhauEmy-BS1LZKXCJIPfRJI55HfYQQb65wBe0_EeUsTBqSravhR/s1600/2014-08-14+10.54.09-1.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">We have two weddings throughout the month of August and so I dressed him in this outfit. He has become such a little man this past month. He smiles a ton, especially in the mornings. He is quite the fussy baby at night but we still love him even when he cries so much he pukes.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWFr4zGyfuv9wyR4_K09WvDHxMdstrRnTVSAU-99H7885utL2PcelYr1S3R3xZnhGt721G-lABgEslZpYw2gz-liqwN6zdecO2zNBuZvv-4gBmenBMbcknoanN3WSkGEfq_NCuF5be7gO/s1600/2014-08-14+10.54.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWFr4zGyfuv9wyR4_K09WvDHxMdstrRnTVSAU-99H7885utL2PcelYr1S3R3xZnhGt721G-lABgEslZpYw2gz-liqwN6zdecO2zNBuZvv-4gBmenBMbcknoanN3WSkGEfq_NCuF5be7gO/s1600/2014-08-14+10.54.19.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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He loves his baby gym... we call it his wiggle mat cause he wiggles his arms and legs like crazy when we set him down there. He is learning to use his voice so well now and coos and ahhs at us a ton. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFMTqDK8_wWJcATMIh75PDhaWAyoTEEjNllJDBkcX2Ij4S2Hoaf8vtznPtAHNG2MXn4nLcyyJREaTuBMzUs0wkjomcXwEl9ACi-FgNq40_12rOKTpIKIbhZITitS8_VGrMsC63AjSvH3Y/s1600/2014-08-14+10.57.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFMTqDK8_wWJcATMIh75PDhaWAyoTEEjNllJDBkcX2Ij4S2Hoaf8vtznPtAHNG2MXn4nLcyyJREaTuBMzUs0wkjomcXwEl9ACi-FgNq40_12rOKTpIKIbhZITitS8_VGrMsC63AjSvH3Y/s1600/2014-08-14+10.57.12.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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This little boy has stolen my heart in ways I didn't think were even possible. It hasn't all been peachy keen and in fact a lot of it has been incredibly hard and anxiety ridden but I still cannot imagine my life without this little one. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwCbVFEZ-nzZsWsO88iAoZa48DOfO_8Ja1LI9j1izO5UPRSsvyZbfYVG5Nglast9_t9At1ONEIKNvKH8eD-bVukFLzjRwggGmVIK8yH0kLajslIBUqNEEs65bnpgMwrMrBXrMAEFdFeE6/s1600/2014-08-14+11.01.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwCbVFEZ-nzZsWsO88iAoZa48DOfO_8Ja1LI9j1izO5UPRSsvyZbfYVG5Nglast9_t9At1ONEIKNvKH8eD-bVukFLzjRwggGmVIK8yH0kLajslIBUqNEEs65bnpgMwrMrBXrMAEFdFeE6/s1600/2014-08-14+11.01.56.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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We were in a pretty bad accident recently and the brief moment where I realized that it only takes a split second for life to change was terrifying. We are all fine thank God but it was a reminder that every moment we have is a gift and I'm trying to not take any of it for granted. The days that are hard I look at him and remember why I keep fighting and waking up every day. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrzUU2OZIeTxQF-jJMLWiz20mo1eLnYmBSx1pcbl-8Hv_eAUXLhVtxuI65IBMZRgXHix7ktfh3uGw_sLlwJ9Onb4TA-0VKBZ8aTfrS1WlvhmkBM0cawj671naYeFGv5iCZekeriIk3sH8/s1600/2014-08-14+11.02.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrzUU2OZIeTxQF-jJMLWiz20mo1eLnYmBSx1pcbl-8Hv_eAUXLhVtxuI65IBMZRgXHix7ktfh3uGw_sLlwJ9Onb4TA-0VKBZ8aTfrS1WlvhmkBM0cawj671naYeFGv5iCZekeriIk3sH8/s1600/2014-08-14+11.02.12.jpg" height="400" width="276" /></a></div>
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I'll be going back to work pretty soon here and my heart just breaks thinking about not being with him all of the time. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPTh9ywHiFShxuZcDJz-b9nwEL5tnji_WY42RmDZ8DMC2pd8wdW-uVRUSysbLEEqNCrqga8Mk8s3xg6-fdOsPegKW9MpbqoTpTc90MrNSIPJga8yP1ouWI35noyFcF6oAS3rdG6fUjIxU/s1600/2014-08-14+11.02.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPTh9ywHiFShxuZcDJz-b9nwEL5tnji_WY42RmDZ8DMC2pd8wdW-uVRUSysbLEEqNCrqga8Mk8s3xg6-fdOsPegKW9MpbqoTpTc90MrNSIPJga8yP1ouWI35noyFcF6oAS3rdG6fUjIxU/s1600/2014-08-14+11.02.17.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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I guess I'll just have to plaster these photos all over my locker so I don't get too sad. Doesn't that smile just make you melt? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrjmKRqOX9TFkaLQrZmD9RdKVA1SqjlrNkDBePcl3WwJyujd2LPpHVC3xoUjvSJXXhWKB-SKdHpp3f3y0ZUCtH9y49D5KWtrv5yLwLqnA4Q2vf3oOgfZPYAHbwzfb3t84E68hDUecgvNC/s1600/2014-08-14+11.04.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrjmKRqOX9TFkaLQrZmD9RdKVA1SqjlrNkDBePcl3WwJyujd2LPpHVC3xoUjvSJXXhWKB-SKdHpp3f3y0ZUCtH9y49D5KWtrv5yLwLqnA4Q2vf3oOgfZPYAHbwzfb3t84E68hDUecgvNC/s1600/2014-08-14+11.04.25.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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Happy (belated) two months Benny. Mama loves you so much. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-4148178584095431992014-07-17T14:29:00.000-07:002014-08-25T17:35:20.050-07:00Bentley - One Month<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEApyT7j0uQZqGOaiost6cqSXi-UopbQHm5AcpJM4vj32Z60z6npm5M7RH3lyjG8enCzEE1aA3nR0SKi-x35xNV_-R3X0sMdhp6MHcWOBf32haPGVb1SPdCgzDtWk19H1WwQKz33e7IeAQ/s1600/IMG_7817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEApyT7j0uQZqGOaiost6cqSXi-UopbQHm5AcpJM4vj32Z60z6npm5M7RH3lyjG8enCzEE1aA3nR0SKi-x35xNV_-R3X0sMdhp6MHcWOBf32haPGVb1SPdCgzDtWk19H1WwQKz33e7IeAQ/s1600/IMG_7817.jpg" height="400" width="363" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPTRGm789UtRvD_LPE4i8Y_sZ2-ZeHS9zTVTXlOxDzvKunwkLHSDx1Z6yS0jZZxBCbLpeiCN42S7cKRdyHqi_qs0mRd9cZPtBchVahQWurQROyEEY1ZZmdUHcjg0et_g98Qr8G5H04gUA/s1600/IMG_7802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPTRGm789UtRvD_LPE4i8Y_sZ2-ZeHS9zTVTXlOxDzvKunwkLHSDx1Z6yS0jZZxBCbLpeiCN42S7cKRdyHqi_qs0mRd9cZPtBchVahQWurQROyEEY1ZZmdUHcjg0et_g98Qr8G5H04gUA/s1600/IMG_7802.jpg" height="446" width="640" /></a></div>
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Friends, I cannot believe it has been over a month since my little boy came into the world. The past 5 weeks have been completely an upheaval in my life. I have been struggling with pretty severe postpartum anxiety and depression but I am getting help and getting better daily.</div>
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Last week my sister in law and I decided to do a little photo shoot to commemorate Benny's one month of life. She has been staying with us to help out with Benny and it has been a huge lifesaver and a big part in my getting better.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SxEAZ6dxKf0Vvjy6EyyjaDQo-x_BbySmR-7onimReo7-I-QmPVN9MlwpufazWnl4RP05AyVQ4JkdK7y8d7jP25sD8A8Yvbce6nsi9QEtYAKKYK5klCznMSNcU1Sbtr0ghEUCpaaeIAqr/s1600/IMG_7828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SxEAZ6dxKf0Vvjy6EyyjaDQo-x_BbySmR-7onimReo7-I-QmPVN9MlwpufazWnl4RP05AyVQ4JkdK7y8d7jP25sD8A8Yvbce6nsi9QEtYAKKYK5klCznMSNcU1Sbtr0ghEUCpaaeIAqr/s1600/IMG_7828.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
I have been thoroughly enjoying my little bean more than ever these days. His little smirks and smiles make me beam with joy. The way he cries out and ooohs and ahhs, trying so hard to test his voice just melts my heart. <br />
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He is the greatest joy I have ever experienced. It is really hard to put into words how amazing it is to be this little munchkin's mama but I am so thankful I am.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpb61DlGbSBwTVoVfyL6idGqkkb3qe8AphDbBXWWuB3g1b8qDApZMpbPe6c-_PYA0oCuSvZ6Z2JSv3z0LQPBkZ9BYnODcGyGu6__yezW_zKDPq7eYSCihbRctSs_4qwBd3DAuAdOcGRYQ/s1600/IMG_7836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpb61DlGbSBwTVoVfyL6idGqkkb3qe8AphDbBXWWuB3g1b8qDApZMpbPe6c-_PYA0oCuSvZ6Z2JSv3z0LQPBkZ9BYnODcGyGu6__yezW_zKDPq7eYSCihbRctSs_4qwBd3DAuAdOcGRYQ/s1600/IMG_7836.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-30361715916063453292014-06-27T16:36:00.004-07:002014-06-27T16:43:31.369-07:00My slightly traumatic birth story.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUKSoimBS55XTefPGuJX4mbUyURYx-s8Wk2v2qHndhKcySCrFpfoOGMuROvnH0IT2mc4kkstQPxUgZlwFmqk84423-u6EnA8uN-XvbseyWEfzAF9rtULMndljCEfm2QK8SDTOT48SCR4X/s1600/2014-06-20+04.29.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUKSoimBS55XTefPGuJX4mbUyURYx-s8Wk2v2qHndhKcySCrFpfoOGMuROvnH0IT2mc4kkstQPxUgZlwFmqk84423-u6EnA8uN-XvbseyWEfzAF9rtULMndljCEfm2QK8SDTOT48SCR4X/s1600/2014-06-20+04.29.33.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a>My due date was June 8th and the week prior I had my membranes swept twice and two false labor scares with one trip to L&D that included us getting monitored and sent home. I had a ton of braxton hicks that felt very confusing as to whether they were true contractions or not. Turns out I was having mild contractions about every 10 minutes and just didn't really feel them. Around 11am on June 9th I started feeling like I was either slowly leaking amniotic fluid or peeing my pants. By 4pm that evening it had happened enough throughout the day that I emailed my doctor to ask if it was something worth checking in on. By 7pm or so I full on soaked my pants and decided it was time to call the on-call number for my clinic. The OB told me to go straight to L&D and sure enough my water had broken and I was to be induced that evening!<br />
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They started with two doses of cytotec pills, spaced 4 hours apart. I got my doses of ampicillin for being GBS positive. The contractions got stronger but were still irregular in spacing and intensity. At around 4am the pain started getting consistently worse and it was difficult because the contractions would stack together at times. We had also been battling with Bentley's heart rate decelerating all night. I couldn't lie on my back because his heart rate would dip down to the 70-90's so I was stuck on my left side and it was getting pretty uncomfortable. I made it to about 4-5cm dilated, -1 station and decided at that point to get the epidural so they could start the pitocin and really get things moving. They started the pitocin and eventually the decelerations became more severe, lasting longer and longer with each contraction. By 6am we had multiple people rushing in the room, flipping me from side to side, turning off the pitocin and giving me sublingual sprays of nitroglycerin to stop the contractions. I was having strong contractions that kept stacking which made the decels worse. I had a large amount of bloody show as well. In fact my whole bed was soaked with blood from the waist down. At that point they had called my OB and told her she needed to come in right away. When she got there I could tell by her face that it was getting very serious. She checked me and I was dilated to 7cm and as she is talking to me about my options his heart rate dips down and stays down. Mid conversation my OB looks at me and goes "No we need to do an emergency c-section now. His heart rate isn't coming up."<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBc96BKzj8u9lQxs4UU09MFRRK2Fr-WcYzIC94G-6h247n5zbZV2_aHLB3ir3car6E1ZbUZZWJoYIsp7Qgxhk-PS9uW0H9cLKnUyPeSWusBlGeFK92Al8C5xufYyyttkxqm38SEUWL3aSg/s1600/2014-06-14+08.27.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBc96BKzj8u9lQxs4UU09MFRRK2Fr-WcYzIC94G-6h247n5zbZV2_aHLB3ir3car6E1ZbUZZWJoYIsp7Qgxhk-PS9uW0H9cLKnUyPeSWusBlGeFK92Al8C5xufYyyttkxqm38SEUWL3aSg/s1600/2014-06-14+08.27.03.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
Within minutes my husband was throwing on scrubs and I was being wheeled into the operating room. Luckily the epidural was in place already so they just increased it to a full nerve block which had a slight complication and made my entire left side numb... but it was better than going under general anesthesia and being intubated. I warned the anesthesiologist that I had severe panic attacks during pregnancy when I felt short of breath and since the block makes you feel like you aren't breathing they pre-treated me with a little bit of versed which made me totally loopy but made the procedure totally bearable too. I got sick during the section and ended up vomiting everywhere. Within 15 minutes they had Bentley out; he had the chord around his neck and was descending down the birth canal slightly crooked. He also had severe molding on his head (major cone head) which probably meant that my pelvis was too long and narrow for him to make it through. During the surgery I lost about 800ml of blood which is a TON for a c-section. The next day they almost had to transfuse me with blood because my hematocrit dropped so low. Bentley was taken to the nursery with his dad. I got stitched up and sent to recovery where I continued to vomit everywhere. About 2 hours after birth I got to hold my baby boy for the first time and I sobbed uncontrollably. He was perfect and beautiful and I was so relieved to have him out of me and have him healthy.<br />
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If I am really honest I feel like pregnancy and childbirth were the worst experiences of my life. I never want to go through it again. I can definitely say that my son is the best thing in my world though and I am SO SO glad to have him.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-37318418968624740872014-05-20T11:07:00.000-07:002014-05-20T11:07:00.021-07:00Baby Shower Pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I wanted to share the baby shower photos I have because I realize that much of what I write about on here in terms of my pregnancy is just sad. While I have been suffering from severe antepartum depression it wouldn't be fair to say that there have <i>only </i>been horrible, depressing moments. There are some great moments of my pregnancy that I hope to remember. My baby shower was definitely one of them.<br />
My mother in law did such a wonderful job at making me feel so loved and cared for and Bentley too!<br />
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I looked ready to give birth any minute but really I still had 8 weeks to go!</div>
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She had such an amazing spread of food and really fun games and these adorable prizes.<br />
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We got so many gifts from everyone and even had a little helper while we were opening presents. :)<br />
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I was so happy that friends from all over the state came to join us. It's hard to get all of us together these days but it was a huge blessing to have them all there. </div>
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I also was so lucky to have amazing co-workers who threw me the sweetest work baby shower. We are decorating Bentley's room in a Super Mario Brother's theme so my friend Julie went through all the trouble to hunt down baby Mario decorations!<br />
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So much good food and love from everyone. This kid really is going to be so incredibly spoiled.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-37773428273234156722014-05-15T19:48:00.000-07:002014-05-15T19:48:56.511-07:00For Bentley<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Bentley,<br />
<br />
I am sitting here pregnant at almost 37 weeks and I am marveling that in just a little while I will be holding you in my arms for the very first time. It feels like an eternity away and yet I know it will fly by quickly in the grand scheme of things. These past months have been a trial for me. I have struggled with pregnancy more than I have any other thing in my entire life. There has been a lot of pain and discomfort and worry. Many days where it felt like the torture would never end.<br />
<br />
Yet, so many times I would press my hand to my belly, trying to remind myself why I was enduring it all, and there you would be. Your little foot meeting the palm of my hand so strong and quick and my heart would melt. You were my joy in the midst of such despair. I struggled with depression during pregnancy, along with all of the other physical ailments too but the depression was the worst.<br />
<br />
Still, in the midst of it all, knowing that I would someday get to hold you and see you and know you, it kept me afloat. The sound of your heart beat was pure bliss. The day I found out that you were a little boy... <i>my</i> baby boy, I cried tears of joy. I have dreams of you too. Wondering what you will be like. What you look like. How it will feel to see you and hold you. There are so many people who want to meet you. So much family and so much love waiting for you in this world. I feel lucky though because I have already felt you. I already know you in so many ways. Your hiccups, your kicks, your every move I feel from within. You are my sweet Benny. My reason for fighting and getting up every day, even when it feels impossible. My love for you is beyond what words could ever describe. It is a special love that only a mother could have. A special bond from feeling you grow since the very minute you came into existence.<br />
<br />
I promise I will always give you everything I have. It will be flawed and I will make many mistakes along the way... that I am sure of... but you will always get the very best of me. I undoubtedly will fail a million times over but I hope you will always feel loved, safe and secure. I hope you will always know your worth. I hope I can teach you to have compassion for others, faith in God and integrity in all that you do. I hope you live life intentionally, passionately and fully. I pray that you will love deeply and travel often. I hope that you laugh a lot and find joy in the mundane. But most of all, my sweet Benny, I hope that you will always know that you are the best thing this life has given me.<br />
<br />
I love you,<br />
Your momma</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-39311625497092818342014-05-08T12:46:00.000-07:002014-05-08T12:46:23.328-07:00To My Fellow Nurses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have been sitting at my computer for over an hour now trying to think of what I want to say to my fellow nurses on "Nurses Week". It is hard to put into words just what a nurse does on a daily basis. If you were to shadow me on a day at work you would see that my day is very busy. From the minute I am done getting report my mind is already racing with the list of things I must accomplish. Giving medications, patient education, trips to CT scan and MRI, wound care and dressing changes, getting immobile patients out of bed, multidisciplinary rounds, assessments, charting, titrating IV medications to maintain hemodynamic stability, drawing labs, adjusting ventilator settings, monitoring vital signs, cleaning up every bodily fluid imaginable. We are the ones at the bedside 24/7. A bedside nurse is a very special person. We are there for the sickest patients in the most vulnerable state of being. We hold your hand, clean you up, hug your families, skip our breaks and our meals just to make sure you are stable and taken care of. We give up our holidays for our patients. We sacrifice time with our own families working nights, weekends, and overtime because we want to take care of people.<br />
<br />
There have been many times that I wanted to quit nursing all together. Too many days I come home exhausted and spent. Physically hurting, emotionally drained and defeated by the system that often prevents me from connecting to the more "human" aspects of my job. I love the days that I get to spend a little extra time with my patients. Reassuring, helping, hand holding, healing, connecting. Those days are rare but the good nurses I know make every effort to fit that in when they can. The good nurses I know are the ones who are smart and work with integrity. They work tirelessly and selflessly for their patients. They teach and train newer nurses to be caring, thorough individuals who advocate for the patients even when it means you have to go head to head with the on call physician.<br />
<br />
Nursing is anything but a glamorous job. It can be rewarding, it <i>is </i>rewarding but many times it is just hard. I am proud of what I do and I cannot imagine doing anything else. My job gives me meaning. I know that despite the lack of accolades we make a difference in the lives of those we treat and care for. To my fellow nurses, I hope this week you feel appreciated. I hope you stop and take the time to recognize all that you do on a daily basis. I hope someone hugs you and says "thank you" but if not I am saying it.<i> Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. </i>What you do is significant. What you do matters. What you do saves lives. For the people you touch, the families you support and the patients you heal, you deserve so much. For now I hope you hear me when I say thank you, you matter and please don't stop what you do. Your co-workers need you, your patients need you, their families need you and this world would be a lesser place without a nurse like you. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-30906071067653880992014-05-04T21:09:00.000-07:002014-05-04T21:09:01.833-07:00 Antepartum Depression at 35 weeks <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It started early for me. Despite the fact that I kept blaming it all on my anxiety and fear of becoming a first time mom, the depression really started much sooner than I would like to admit. I remember early in my first trimester having overwhelming waves of guilt and sadness. There were many days that I spent every work break locked up in our library, sobbing. Trying to catch my breath, I would cry out to my unborn child, "I am so sorry. I'm so sorry I'm your mama. I'm so sorry baby." I felt completely horrible that this poor child would be born to such a miserable failure of a human being. I felt so guilty all of the time and so devastatingly sad. I had frequent panic attacks and was so physically miserable with every pregnancy symptom in the book. Stuck on a liquid diet for two months because I could not keep down solid food. Praying that somehow all of the GI symptoms would eventually clear. Praying that my asthma would somehow come under control again so I could breathe. When one thing would let up another would creep in and I only felt more defeated as time went on.<br />
<br />
Then we had our anatomy scan in February and we were told that we were most likely having a child with an intersex disorder. Meaning at the very least he would need surgery after birth and at the very worst our child actually had no defined gender or would be both genders but could also have other abnormalities like infertility and mild retardation. Suddenly the baby boy I had named and grown so very attached to became genderless and lacked any real identity to connect with in my mind. That same week I had been started on Wellbutrin for the depression and one of the black box warnings for this drug is suicidal ideation. Over the two weeks it took to do further testing and wait for a follow up ultrasound I began to spiral out of control. We eventually found out that the anatomy scan tech just had bad images because the umbilical cord was in the way and we were in fact having a very healthy baby boy, but by then the damage had been done. Every day became a battle to simply survive. Life seemed utterly pointless and I began to think about death with fondness. Wishing that somehow I could simply not exist anymore.<br />
<br />
I decided to go off the Wellbutrin and with the help of my husband and my OB-Gyn I began seeing a therapist that specialized in pregnancy related issues. Slowly, I began to get better and within a month I felt actually somewhat normal! I even remember telling my OB-Gyn that I thought the third trimester was my magical trimester. I honestly only remember one brief period, maybe a couple of days where I felt those suicidal thoughts creep back in and I remember it being associated with feeling physically really crappy. I had a wonderful baby shower around week 32 that was so happy I felt pure joy that entire week. Excitement even for what was to come.<br />
<br />
Then came week 34 and the beast that is antepartum depression crept back in and decided to dig in deep. This child inside of me is growing big and it literally feels as if a 300 pound man is sitting square on my chest. I cannot catch my breath for the life of me and I panic on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. The other day I spent a good portion of my day googling things like <i>"antepartum depression" "suicide during pregnancy" "antepartum depression worsening during second pregnancy"</i> in an attempt to find someone who understood the darkness that has taken hold of my mind. I also have been completely preoccupied lately with the thought that I just cannot imagine ever doing this again. The realization that having another child could possibly be one of the worst ideas is so heart breaking. I want more children. I don't want Bentley to be an only child but the thought of willingly inviting this beast into my life again is down right terrifying. I told Chris through tears yesterday that I was afraid I would get even more depressed and commit suicide if I ever got pregnant again. <i>How awful is that? </i>I even considered writing a letter to myself in order to remind my future self just how horrible and scary this pregnancy was. I am so afraid that the joy of having Bentley will make me forget the beast and it's hold on my mind. I am so afraid that I will decide to be brave and that the next time I won't be so lucky. Next time the depression will be so debilitating that I just won't survive it and my children will be left without a mother. The thought that I just can't have more children is a burden that hurts so deep and I know it hurts Chris too. I don't know what the future entails but it just feels very bleak.<br />
<br />
Right now I am desperately clinging to the hope that this will all get better once Bentley gets here. It's hard though because I am told that having antepartum depression predisposes you for postpartum depression. I seem to also only hear the horror stories of taking care of a newborn. The lack of sleep, the torture that is breastfeeding, the pain of recovery, the never ending cries of a colicky, inconsolable baby. It all just feels like I will be jumping from the pan to the fire. I have 5 weeks to go and I feel like each day is a battle to get through. Some are better than others but for now I have to keep fighting to live despite my complete lack of desire to go on at times. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow will be better.<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-13335540059274156332014-03-31T14:45:00.001-07:002014-03-31T14:46:19.522-07:00Life Lately <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's raining today and I could not be happier. I know so many people struggle with feeling more depressed when it is gloomy outside but I am not one of those. I love the rain. Right outside my kitchen window I have a ton of greenery and trees. I sometimes sit and watch the rain pour down all of leaves. It's incredibly peaceful. My mom always used to call it "snuggle weather" and I can't help but to think of what it will be like when little Benny comes and I can bundle him up in feet pajamas and just cuddle him all day long. <br />
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He has been moving a lot lately. Full on ninja style, alien moving in my belly, kicks and twists and turns. In fact there have been many times he has made me jump clear out of my seat or straight up in bed. This kid is strong and super active, which makes me so very happy. It is the best part of this whole process. As I wind down for bed each night I often sit there for an hour or so just holding my hands over my belly, smiling to myself and just feeling him move around. It is truly amazing to know that my <i>child</i> is in there, growing and being his own little person.<br />
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I have grown a lot over the past few weeks too. I am officially 30 weeks along now and I cannot fathom how I will last another 10 weeks with this little munchkin inside of me. I already feel incredibly huge and heavy and it can be hard at times. I've been feeling better when it comes to my depression but the anxiety is still there. My asthma has been bad during pregnancy and having a baby growing up against your lungs makes it very difficult to breathe sometimes. It's a big panic inducer for me when I have those severe shortness of breath moments. I'm sure all of you mamas out there know what I mean. The third trimester really slows you down and makes you feel so out of shape!<br />
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I worry a lot about the postpartum period too. I know breastfeeding is hard and the lack of sleep is really tough but I actually think those aren't my worst fears. My worst fear is the crazy fluctuation in hormones you have after giving birth. I feel like that has been my issue this whole time... the complete lack of control over my body... physically, emotionally, and mentally it is all so unpredictable. Especially being a first time mom I just have no clue what to expect. Hopefully, the fact that my little man will finally be here and in my arms (and also able to hand over to dad when it gets to be too much) will help.<br />
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For now, I am just trying to enjoy having Benny to myself. Carrying him with me everywhere I go and feeling his little feet in my side and his hiccups in my hips... it really is so special and miraculous. Ten weeks left to savor... or survive. :)<br />
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Happy Monday Friends. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-41459749571614317812014-03-09T23:23:00.002-07:002014-03-09T23:23:41.325-07:00How to Survive Night Shift Nursing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For five years I have been a night shift nurse in the ICU. I never thought I would make the transition to day shift nursing but this past month I made the leap and for me it was the best decision I have made in years. I think I forgot how wonderful it is to sleep when it is actually dark outside and my days off are now actually days off! I'm not perpetually catching up on sleep or trying to rotate my schedule to accommodate work or my pathetic attempt at a social life.<br />
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Despite the horrors that the night shift bestowed on my life I do know that for many years I was happy on nights and I think I can share a few tips for those of you venturing into the graveyard world. Being a new grad nurse almost inevitably means you will start out on nights... even a seasoned nurse who moves to a new hospital starts at the bottom of the food chain and has to usually work the night shift. So, for those of you looking for some help in surviving beyond the land of the living... here goes.<br />
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1) Your schedule has to be the most protected aspect of your life. Whether you choose to work multiple days in a row or not, this is most important. You have the choice to stay on the night shift for a stretch and then switch your sleeping to match day shift on your stretch of days off or you can work one or two days in a row and then just stay on a night shift schedule always. Most night shifters I know work 3-4 days in a row (I never recommend more than 4) and then have 3-4 days off in a row to flip their schedule and live among the land of the living for those few days.<br />
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2) Plan your meals ahead of time. Sleep is the most important part of surviving night shift and what I found to be most helpful was planning all of my meals the day before I started a long stretch at work. The less time I'm worried about packing 12 hours worth of food, the more time I get to spend in bed and that is awesome.<br />
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3) Learn to say no. Being a night shift person unfortunately means that 99% of the time people will not understand your schedule or the need to protect your sleep. Social events can be really hard to plan because sometimes people don't understand that yes 1:00 pm is in fact WAY too early for a night shift person to wake up. Especially if it is your first day off! That first day off after working a long stretch... take my advice and don't make any plans. That day is ruined... a total wash and when you need to plan something that you can't get out of either do it right after work or very late in the evening.<br />
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Being a night shift nurse is incredibly hard. I did it for five years and I know many people who have done it for their entire career. Yes, it is quieter and slower and there are less people to deal with which is nice but you also work with fewer staff and you need to have more autonomy and the ability to trust your clinical judgement. Night shift also doesn't get nearly as much recognition as day shift. In fact I received my first present from a family member this week! 5 years I have been working at my hospital and this was the first time I have been given a thank you card for taking care of a patient. It was nice and I realize now just how glad I am to be working again in the land of the living. Still, I value the time I had on nights because I learned a lot and hopefully my tips can help someone else too!<br />
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-85054224827201888292014-02-24T17:42:00.000-08:002014-02-24T17:45:17.376-08:00Pregnancy and Depression<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have never been the kind of person to sugar coat anything. I am open, honest, and transparent most of the time. And yet my pregnancy has been an incredibly difficult thing to share with people. Early on in my baby journey I deleted my Facebook. I haven't done the typical "weekly bump photo" like most bloggers love to do. I thought I would too! I have limited myself to using Twitter and Instagram and even those things I rarely post anything on. I have been so very protective of my pregnancy and I think it's because my pregnancy hasn't been what I'd hoped or what others expected it to be.<br />
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Society in general has this image of pregnant women as these glowing, feminine goddesses. *GAG* oh sorry, did I just ruin it for someone? Pregnancy for me has been miserable and not just because of the usual pregnancy symptoms... because while those are horrible and I do mean horrible... they aren't the worst part. The worst parts are the moments when someone tells you that something might be seriously wrong with your baby. Or when you completely loose any attachment you ever had to the child growing inside of you. Or the moments when the antepartum depression sinks in so deeply that you truly see no reason to exist anymore.<br />
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I was talking to a friend of mine today who struggles with depression as well and I told him that I think one of the hardest things to deal with these days is that people see me as weak. They think I am overreacting or that I just don't "handle" pregnancy well. That maybe if I fought a little harder, I could beat the depression. If I were stronger then maybe I wouldn't be so miserable. As if I have a choice in it all.<br />
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But see, that is not how depression works. Depression is not a choice or a mindset that you can choose to overcome. It is not something you can pray away or give a pat on the back and expect it to disappear. It is not about mental toughness or about your will to fight. Trust me... coming from someone who has overcome so much. It is no lack of will or strength or tenacity that is getting the best of me. This friend of mine told me something today that made me smile and I even felt a little bit proud. He said,<br />
<br />
"The thing is that the people I know with depression are some of the toughest fuckers on the planet. I would go through hell with those people. I'll take someone who battles depression and can still be a success over anybody. There's nobody tougher."<br />
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Amen friend. And thank you for reminding me of that truth.<br />
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I am thankful for people like him. People who get it. People who reach out despite the fact that I am no bowl of cherries. People who aren't afraid to include me in their life because of where I am. People who don't just ignore it or me because it is uncomfortable for them to face. I am struggling with depression and while it may not be fun and I may be different.... I am still me. I am still here. Still fighting. I still get up every single day. I go to work. I take care of myself and my baby. I clean my house. I fight to live even on the days where it feels pointless. If that isn't toughness or resilience I don't know what is.<br />
I'm hoping that on the off chance that someone stumbles across this post and is struggling with depression... especially pregnancy related depression.... I hope you know that you are not alone. But more importantly, you should know that if you are still waking up every day and choosing to live... you should be proud. You my friend are a badass. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-10958917463225613652014-01-12T00:02:00.000-08:002014-01-12T15:04:47.458-08:00Ireland on my mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">A few years ago I made a trip to visit two of my BFF's on the opposite side of the world. Lebanon and Ireland in one trip. It was glorious and probably one of the best things I have done outside of living in South Africa for a few months and traveling to Thailand during college.</span></div>
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I have been lucky to travel quite a bit in my life. I wish I could travel more but lately the thought of airplanes and packing and jet lag just sounds horrendous. Over the past two years I have settled more into home, which is why I am even more thankful that I traveled a good amount in my early/mid twenties. I have a feeling that international trips won't exist with a little one... not to mention a husband who hates the thought of traveling internationally.<br />
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He isn't big on being forced out of your comfort zone when it comes to traveling. I used to thrive off of that thrill though. The feeling that your world is so different from the one you are visiting. I think it forces you to stay humble and tolerant in a way that is unique to being immersed in another culture or country. Chris is a domestic traveler though, having been to most of the 50 states. I however have been to only a handful in comparison.</div>
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So for now, I am nostalgically thinking of the time I spent in Ireland. I have close to 2,000 photos from that trip. I remember coming home and being so overwhelmed with them all that I hardly edited any.<br />
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I took a chunk of them recently and I began exploring a bit more. Being sick this whole week has afforded me few joys. Yet, reminiscing on this splendid trip with the best travel buddy ever made me really happy.<br />
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We decided to make a spur of the moment trip from Dublin to Belfast and up to the Giant's Causeway. I forgot how beautiful it was! I'm so glad I took so many photos and I can't wait to someday tell Bentley about my many adventures overseas. And maybe someday he and I will have some travel adventures of our very own.<br />
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Oh Ireland I heart you.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-70689401220958058362014-01-04T01:36:00.000-08:002014-01-04T01:36:00.038-08:00I Wish I Knew: What Nobody Tells You About Prenatal Depression. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
These days I am taking life one step at a time. I seem to be more familiar with anxiety and a lot of fear as of late. Sometimes it feels as if the isolation is drowning out so much it is hard to tell what is reality and what is the result of the hormones surging inside of me. I feel inadequate and like a complete failure a lot of the time. Instead of feeling feminine and glowing, I feel the extra weight I carried before pregnancy pushing its way out in places too visible for my own comfort. As a result I look further along than I am and people tell me I am huge. I feel self conscious about that. I am tired and winded with each step up my stairs. I am told often that it will only get harder the bigger I get. A claustrophobic's worst fear. I read people's birth and postpartum stories and I squirm in my seat, dreading what is to come with all of my being. I don't recognize myself, my body, my spirit. I wish someone had told me how hard pregnancy was. How motherhood starts from the minute that the second line appears. Despite the tiny heart beating just inches away from my own I feel incredibly alone. Scared and sad.... and so very guilty for feeling so. very. sad.<br />
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Last week, I was out with Chris running errands and the entire time I held back tears. A blank stare on my face and this hollow, soulless feeling lurking inside. When we got home, he climbed the stairs to his office and I stood in our kitchen and cried. No... I sobbed. Partially relieved to let it out but mostly devastated that I feel so alone and empty even around the ones that I love so much.<br />
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Right now I am battling a horrible case of Influenza A H1N1 coupled with a nasty rhinovirus. When we were driving into the ER last night I saw my life slowly spiraling away. My lungs tightening up and the wheezing growing so loud it almost drowned out the pounding of my rapidly beating heart. I panicked, gripping the seat belt... trying to will myself to breathe. "Just breathe. You are okay. Just breathe, Andi" I said out loud. I pictured myself collapsing and being intubated in the waiting room of the ER, ending up on a ventilator for weeks. Oddly enough, being in the hospital was incredibly comforting, heading home afterwards was again horrifying. During discharge my heart rate shot up to the 120's and they had to double check that I didn't need more fluid before leaving. The anxiety is slowly taking over and it is debilitating and depressing. </div>
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The saddest part about struggling with prenatal depression is this tension between the life that is forming inside of you and the deep despair you feel about the whole process. I have never loved anyone or anything so much in my entire life. The moment I knew this life was growing inside of me was a moment I will never forget. It was euphoric and terrifying and life changing. There are moments where I feel those flutters and I can't help but think that I am the luckiest woman in the world to have my son moving inside of me. To be his mother. To love that deeply... seeing those little hands waving across the screen and little feet curled up so small and yet so defined. To hear that quick heartbeat so loud and so strong, growing every day. It brings tears to my eyes... good tears. Tears of deep gratitude and awe, filled with a desire to be better than I have ever been... all for this sweet baby boy who is already redefining my entire existence. Yesterday, in the hospital I was telling Chris how scared I was that our little boy would be harmed by my virus. He told me, "He is in the eye of the storm, babe. He is just fine." What truth. Sure enough, there he was on the ultrasound swimmin' around like a champ. His heart rate truckin' along at his usual 150 beats a minute. He is my peace. My joy in all of this. My eye in the midst of the storm. My sweet Bentley.<br />
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I find myself crying out in prayer every day... begging God to make me worthy of this responsibility... of this gift. Praying that I would be enough for my child. That I could give him everything and love him in all the ways he deserves. To be strong enough to overcome my own crap and to believe in myself enough... to trust that in the midst of my mess I could be a good mom... the best mom for my precious boy.<br />
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I wish someone had told me that being pregnant isn't always joyous and wonderful and filled with that glittery glow I expected to have. Maybe they did... but I didn't hear it or understand it the way that I do now. People say rude things and your body is unkind to you and yet that same body is miraculously creating another human being all in one breath. Everything is foreign and feels scarily out of control. Pregnancy is hard. Motherhood is hard... even at this stage it is so challenging. I know I will be okay... but I really wish I was better prepared for this... that this is what making a baby turns out to be for some.<br />
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Miraculous. Frightening. Life-changing. Sad. Hard. Undoubtedly worth it... but still so very hard.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-78638173502761284512014-01-01T01:44:00.000-08:002014-01-01T01:44:00.257-08:00To my sweet June Bug.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We recently discovered the most wonderful news about our munchkin. Come June 2014, we will be welcoming a sweet baby boy into the Heggem household!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKK6MNbInpgngBREIvAV1dU32_SNAYkS4DZqayiM3RWIhJuqsBzGDsh2vEbceoxMDnWHOeaTIH-wNhZrpb0THcn7Gy2Y5SY5UsMZgy5omHzc2TJc_m65AFCKiO0N7vUj9opCw1UreLPx8/s1600/HEGGEM_ANDREA_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKK6MNbInpgngBREIvAV1dU32_SNAYkS4DZqayiM3RWIhJuqsBzGDsh2vEbceoxMDnWHOeaTIH-wNhZrpb0THcn7Gy2Y5SY5UsMZgy5omHzc2TJc_m65AFCKiO0N7vUj9opCw1UreLPx8/s640/HEGGEM_ANDREA_5.jpg" width="640" /></a>He waves hello to you all!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_eGs7b9zAiSjTGTI0V8aBp8cFyLA0tBGFqeVTRaH4TZlV3rnASt6TqU1mn81N8dl4Fyzh28Na6hGIG3P3Q7d9b1cweQ2FcfsK1kBrAYbxKtwgKwpz7DtAU9woSdHfZd_Gxxh9o5HqZ2I/s1600/HEGGEM_ANDREA_9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_eGs7b9zAiSjTGTI0V8aBp8cFyLA0tBGFqeVTRaH4TZlV3rnASt6TqU1mn81N8dl4Fyzh28Na6hGIG3P3Q7d9b1cweQ2FcfsK1kBrAYbxKtwgKwpz7DtAU9woSdHfZd_Gxxh9o5HqZ2I/s400/HEGGEM_ANDREA_9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and holiday season!</div>
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Here is to a healthy, hopeful, joyous, and safe New Year.</div>
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Happy 2014 Friends!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-17045825041660760922013-12-11T01:59:00.000-08:002013-12-11T02:00:04.112-08:00Life Lately<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I think I am allergic to my Christmas tree. Either that or I have a yucky on the verge of becoming a horrible cold that just refuses to go away. Seriously... my nose is raw from blowing it so much. It's 1:30am right now and my husband is happily talking in his sleep while I've been desperately hoping my benadryl will kick in so I can go back to bed. On a happy note my tree is real for the first time in years and it smells wonderful and looks so happy! I even got to decorate my very own Starbucks ornament this year! My whole tree is covered with the many Starbucks ornaments I have collected over the years. Literally, I have enough to cover almost my whole tree.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGI7YJX3pJtl8zMuOFhrA6yIIK9OY16xS9vJDXXsu6DDd7r20WPzz4nrtyYBy_WK0SDvJqaIpivb1zVZMCve4fF8V_TY3G3k5ruX4Q1tWUL14PHFEdyHJqggmEvyaJDPOC1nxJp6wGhpb/s1600/IMG_2499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGI7YJX3pJtl8zMuOFhrA6yIIK9OY16xS9vJDXXsu6DDd7r20WPzz4nrtyYBy_WK0SDvJqaIpivb1zVZMCve4fF8V_TY3G3k5ruX4Q1tWUL14PHFEdyHJqggmEvyaJDPOC1nxJp6wGhpb/s400/IMG_2499.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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This month has been interesting. Right now I am in my 15th week of pregnancy (yay for the second trimester!) and I am starting to feel huge already. It hasn't helped that people have literally told me that very thing, "You're huge! You aren't that far along. By the end you're gonna be huge!" No joke someone said that to me on Thanksgiving. >__< I don't know what it is about being pregnant but seriously everyone seems to think that you are like an open door to being touched or commented on... appropriate or not people will give you their opinion freely and most of the time it is with very little tact... if any at all.<br />
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This was me on Thanksgiving. Baby is definitely popping out and I guess considering that I'm barely 5'1" I don't really have anywhere to grow but out. Last week we got to do our nuchal translucency ultrasound which was so fun. Baby was probably sleeping because he/she wouldn't stretch out for us or move... except for one time when the tech was really pressing on my belly so baby got annoyed and turned his/her back to us. The fun thing was that we got a great wave during that moment. </div>
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How cute is that?! Seriously I'm obsessed with my little June bug already. Sometimes when I stop and think about it I am in awe. I have a HUMAN growing inside of me. I'm a real life babushka doll!<br />
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The past two weeks or so have been nice because the morning sickness and throwing up has subsided. At this point I'm only puking a few times a week.... I'll take it... as compared to throwing up literally multiple times a day, every day. Also for a while I had to be on a liquid diet because all I could tolerate were foods like soup, yogurt, jello, pudding.... seriously if I never have to eat another pudding snack in my lifetime I'll be fine. </div>
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What else? Work... oh yeah, work. Hmm a lot to say on that front but also not the energy to say it. I also feel like work needs its own post... or many. Either way I'm on vacation until Monday so I'm trying to not think about it and just enjoy the time off I have. Getting ready for Christmas is always an endeavor in this family. I spent the entire day wrapping presents yesterday!</div>
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Happy Holidays friends! I hope you are all well and joyful this season. :)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-61347941532966943952013-11-11T18:11:00.000-08:002013-11-11T18:12:43.209-08:00Veteran's Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Last week I had a patient who was in the air force and was deployed to Vietnam during the war. He couldn't sleep that night in the hospital so we sat and talked for hours about life and the military and his experience overseas. He told me a story of a day when he wasn't feeling well and had to skip on a mission with the six guys he had been with the entire time he was in Vietnam. He was older when he went into the war and so he kind of took these guys under his wings over there. He loved 'em like family he said and when he woke up the next morning he discovered that the plane had crashed and every single one of them had been killed. To this day he wakes up with nightmares or dreams about them and he told me that every day he lives with guilt for not being with them on that plane. </div>
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Today, I met up with a girl I happened to meet on a "what to expect" forum where expectant moms meet up online to share due dates and pregnancy joys and woes along this crazy journey. She happened to mention that she lived in my town and had just moved here cause her husband was stationed here with the navy for the next few years. We exchanged info and we had coffee today and walked around downtown. Her husband is currently gone for six weeks and she told me about all the moves they've had to make and the times he was gone for six months twice. How she is away from family and the support system she had built in their last base. I can't imagine. Sometimes we forget that the families of our soldiers have sacrificed so much too.</div>
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Life at the VA has been hard for me these past few years and I've actually been on the hunt for another job. Deciding whether I should leave or not has kept me up at night and has been the source of so much stress for me lately. I'm under appreciated and under paid where I work... my job is always exhausting and hard. The moments where I feel like I actually get to connect with these guys is rare and if I am really honest I feel like a lot of the work I do in the ICU is futile... often times these guys wait so long to get help that the chances of getting better are truly bleak. It's disheartening to say the least. </div>
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Still, there is this place deep in me that continues to tug at my heart strings. I was telling my FIL yesterday about a new job opportunity and asking for advice on what to do. When I was explaining to him why I had always loved the VA I felt that familiar lump in my throat start to well up. What our soldiers do is incredibly difficult and what we offer is so very special. A place to be understood. A place where you can share about your time in Vietnam... and an ear to listen from someone who really knows just how PTSD impacts the lives of our service men and women. Some of these guys (and gals) haven't shared some of these stories with their own family even... and yet here I am at 2am hearing the heart of a man so burdened with guilt and sorrow over the loss he experienced decades ago. It is special indeed and I feel so very honored to be the recipient of that kind of trust... and a vessel for healing not only physically but emotionally too. </div>
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I don't know where I will end up in the future but for now I want to thank you. Those of you who have given so much of yourself and the families who have sacrificed just the same. Thank you for being brave for us. Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to serve you. If you know a veteran please thank them today... or tomorrow... or the day after that. Their sacrifice never really ends and I hope that our thanks never does as well. </div>
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Happy Veteran's Day</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-78042777825176824992013-10-23T18:19:00.000-07:002013-10-24T10:59:38.962-07:00Hope<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When I was a little girl I very distinctly remember that I loved playing with baby dolls. Up until maybe even 11 or 12 years old I have those memories of cradling and feeding and changing the little dolls that would creepily close their eyes when you laid them flat. What is even more amusing is knowing that the thought of actually being a mother or actually having children of my own someday never even occurred to me. I never wanted to be a mother. I never had that picture in my mind of what my children might look like or be like. I never longed for the day I would be able to hold my child for the first time. Witness the first breath, first words, first step. I also never really knew why. The sacrifice just seemed so great and the desire so small. <br />
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It wasn't until recently when I was hovering over a pregnancy test desperately praying for it to be negative that I even began to think of the real possibility of having children. It was such a fearful feeling... that sense that a train is headed at you while your car is stuck on the tracks. Knowing that if I were to have a child... things really would be okay... but they would not be at all what I expected. Not at all what I had wanted or even hoped for.<br />
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And then... only one blue line appeared... and suddenly I felt this overwhelming sorrow... a sense of loss so great it brought me to tears. Indeed the train had hit, but the impact was much different than I expected. Motherhood was now something I very much wanted and the desire terrified and confused me. I didn't know what to do with it all. This strong sense that I was not ready to be a mom... that the timing was not right.... but the overwhelming wish that I could be.<br />
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Over time there was this deep searching that took place. Discovering the root of those intense fears I had about one day raising a little person. Everyone I spoke with would tell me, "Oh don't worry you won't be like your mom" and I got it... I understood why they would say that.<br />
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But it didn't help... the fears only grew and began filling every space left unattended in my thoughts. It wasn't until I spent the day with my mom that it dawned on me just what it was. We were talking about something as mundane as personality tests. I mentioned myers briggs and how much I loved that one... how it had helped me figure myself out. When instantly I was met with such strong resistance. Proclamations about how worthless that one was compared to my mom's favorite numerology system. And it only continued from there... bikram yoga is better than ashtanga... running isn't good for me... etc.<br />
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Every single thing I did had a flaw... something that needed to be corrected or trumped and when I made it home that evening I felt completely deflated... emotionally exhausted from the battle it was to just simply exist with my mother. It dawned on me that day that my fears about becoming a mother had nothing to do with being afraid of being <i>like</i> my mother... I was afraid of becoming the person that she always made me feel that I was.<br />
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A failure.... stupid... worthless... not good enough... a burden...</div>
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These are the words that have spun in my mind for so long and despite the nice birthday cards and the backhanded compliments I never really got over it. I never really believed that what my mother said... how she made me feel was completely invalid. That maybe her words and her actions were more about her and where she is in life than about me and my value. Maybe... just maybe... my fears about being a mother were rooted in completely unfounded proclamations... and not in the ability I have to love and raise another human being. That maybe the deep, deep desire I had for my mother to tell me, "YES, you can do this!" wasn't going to come but that it would still be okay. <br />
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And maybe... just maybe... someday I can have the ability... the chance to raise a little person. To love them and protect them in the ways that I wasn't... and in the ways that I was. To give this longing in my heart a voice. To believe in my worth and teach my children their worth too. And at the very least... to know that I am not living out of fear but out of hope instead.<br />
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The road so far has been incredibly bumpy and the sacrifices are much greater than I expected. Even at this stage of the journey there has been so much emotional, physical, and mental tenacity required. I have had to be more brave now than I think I ever have and I feel this shift inside of my being. This raw fierceness of protection and love and fear.... and yes, most definitely hope. Knowing that from here on out my life will never be the same... but that it will most definitely be richer and fuller because of it. And despite being terrified still every day that I might not be able to protect enough or love enough, I at least know that I am brave enough to take that first step. And soon... it will all be worth it.<br />
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I love you my little munchkin. I'm so excited to be your mama :)</div>
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<a href="http://s1202.photobucket.com/user/CaseyWiegand/media/march2013/LINKUPBUTTON.jpg.html" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><br /></a><a href="http://s1202.photobucket.com/user/CaseyWiegand/media/march2013/LINKUPBUTTON.jpg.html" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo LINKUPBUTTON.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1202.photobucket.com/albums/bb380/CaseyWiegand/march2013/LINKUPBUTTON.jpg" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-67106663335420640702013-09-29T21:48:00.000-07:002013-09-29T21:48:00.019-07:00The Letter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The other day I was cleaning out the boxes in my office closet that had been with me since I was 15 years old. Years of moving, transferred from house to house and box to box. I had over a decade worth of letters and cards that had chronicled my life through the eyes of those around me. As I sifted through and tossed the generic "Happy Birthday! Love, Aunt Sue" cards into the trash I came across an open envelope. </div>
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It had unfamiliar writing all over it and it wasn't a letter I had remembered even owning let alone reading. It was from my dad and it was addressed from jail, dated in 1991... I was 6 years old. There was this moment as I opened the letter where everything else went blank. Almost as if I forgot what I had been doing up until that second. The wind had left my lungs and I felt that clenching in my chest. I slowly sat down on the floor and began reading the words on the pages. The apologies and the desperate pleas to not be afraid. The six places he told me I love you and the three where he said not be afraid. I counted each one... soaking it in just as desperately as he had written the words. The few memories I had were all there... even the swans he had taught me to draw as a little girl. </div>
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<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15-bS4pSXBwtqPLk_XyT8GDw5tIUtSXPeQkdxfLFNzVHslVhD1FAUVgWCf9oLYMGsGUX3iF7Q-v8D2KC-9mRANcWOc9jQSEO6iDOxWPaoZa5YtxCEsNdVnTDC2TQA5LBUiGf_R_7YvSXl/s400/FX+Photo+Studio_image-723121.jpg" /></div>
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There I was.... just a few days before my 29th birthday as I sat on the floor of my office, sobbing over the words. Tear drops staining the page, blurring the ink into incomprehensible puddles. The questions that had always been in the deepest parts of my being were right there in a box, on a shelf... in my office... all along. Did my dad love me... or more poignantly </div>
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<i>Am I lovable?</i></div>
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Most of my life has been lived with the desperate desire to be captivating, pursued and longed for. A hope that one day the void of not having my father's love would be filled. The wound of being abandoned somehow healed over. It never ceases to amaze me just how much that father wound has managed to impact every part of my identity. Just when I think I have overcome the breath of it... there it is. I know I have come so far and I know I am not alone in this struggle. It doesn't take a broken home to struggle with issues of worth but a broken home and an abusive father only magnifies the hurt. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“We desire to possess a beauty that is worth pursuing, worth fighting for, a beauty that is core to who we truly are. We want beauty that can be seen; beauty that can be felt; beauty that affects others; a beauty all our own to unveil.” </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7355.Stasi_Eldredge" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">Stasi Eldredge</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/272149" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul</a></i></div>
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So today, I am reflecting on that desire, that hurt, that loss, that wound. I am praying that somehow it will heal enough to not sting so much. I am praying for the strength to believe in my own worth... and I mourn the ways in which I have not loved myself enough. </div>
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And maybe along the way... in sharing the journey... others can be healed too. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-7618635101408902172013-09-23T21:37:00.000-07:002013-09-23T21:37:27.095-07:00Life Lately in Photos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4Ko93XO1nbugBAzkNos9plPl1Red7qgiXMTi7yjWp0Tu-DQGnAateKpfH0v1ozW89KGP5OiqiZwpPxXT-669f3cvkWETwYOGbZYKbGfJ4oZO8SBLcIC0t6pjUNcJVxwzilYj9biVOZz8/s1600/IMG_2147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4Ko93XO1nbugBAzkNos9plPl1Red7qgiXMTi7yjWp0Tu-DQGnAateKpfH0v1ozW89KGP5OiqiZwpPxXT-669f3cvkWETwYOGbZYKbGfJ4oZO8SBLcIC0t6pjUNcJVxwzilYj9biVOZz8/s320/IMG_2147.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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yummy smoothies :)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyOGUZotoGxJ5lUFu3iyoIDyAetcP7kbgCMva6LdLuKaq_TEpjUd0AJk0T-59J1ivPa00aeJXape7gWvLQmx62raIZDbr3Zr-i4niKLKxq9074XgCQv7z0YiBitj5F09r-e4ix6fZE_k3/s1600/IMG_2150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyOGUZotoGxJ5lUFu3iyoIDyAetcP7kbgCMva6LdLuKaq_TEpjUd0AJk0T-59J1ivPa00aeJXape7gWvLQmx62raIZDbr3Zr-i4niKLKxq9074XgCQv7z0YiBitj5F09r-e4ix6fZE_k3/s320/IMG_2150.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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First time my hand was free from the cast after surgery!</div>
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Crocheted blanket for the little bundle of love below</div>
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<a href="http://kellylgilbert.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">love her </a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4IncPCaU0bksFblSs702I5r_vKERDUrqsVKhADgZmNxvXx8wQNN-a2tPHnv60_irn97LDjc-INc4ZfTCsFddr_1womLlOEK0TlaFOyhMqe3b2wPLrEZ4PTwAeRkGYE4DVC3Q9spiUmOL/s1600/IMG_2201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4IncPCaU0bksFblSs702I5r_vKERDUrqsVKhADgZmNxvXx8wQNN-a2tPHnv60_irn97LDjc-INc4ZfTCsFddr_1womLlOEK0TlaFOyhMqe3b2wPLrEZ4PTwAeRkGYE4DVC3Q9spiUmOL/s400/IMG_2201.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Trip to a cabin in the Sierra's with my favorite people and husband</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiteTxbzYcBviglW_xv6QScLoQ00LvEHVsqIZGQQlcQcaZ_U9wiyrhXICX-_rB8R9jTH6u4oFYjWa0l2alGjyNXYoYBHF7OPhBogwnLFliEZUUCRPkFkMwNmE6frVBaXZ8qy5dL41elNhLu/s1600/IMG_2255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiteTxbzYcBviglW_xv6QScLoQ00LvEHVsqIZGQQlcQcaZ_U9wiyrhXICX-_rB8R9jTH6u4oFYjWa0l2alGjyNXYoYBHF7OPhBogwnLFliEZUUCRPkFkMwNmE6frVBaXZ8qy5dL41elNhLu/s400/IMG_2255.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicS2mkm7Iu1op8LHyEgZcplspChmpqsHNATWtqrKE4qaTmHFmZqRwKKmZfmI74Q5bdnf8FEeLSbTfwVQQB3fsdrOcNd07CXNnP6N10anPAMBHeX7nUKznnRDPMtziaw9nX5ESShSz2jlno/s1600/IMG_2275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicS2mkm7Iu1op8LHyEgZcplspChmpqsHNATWtqrKE4qaTmHFmZqRwKKmZfmI74Q5bdnf8FEeLSbTfwVQQB3fsdrOcNd07CXNnP6N10anPAMBHeX7nUKznnRDPMtziaw9nX5ESShSz2jlno/s400/IMG_2275.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Capitola</div>
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My favorite beach with my awesome sister in law</div>
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A trip down memory lane... I was a funny kid</div>
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Best Birthday Breakfast ever</div>
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Best Birthday Cupcakes ever </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-53171503192670525452013-09-14T23:17:00.000-07:002013-09-14T23:17:59.067-07:00Stay<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The other day my friend sent me a link to one of the <a href="http://accordingtokateri.wordpress.com/2013/08/27/just-a-nurse/" target="_blank">best nursing related posts </a>I have read in a while... <a href="http://accordingtokateri.wordpress.com/2013/08/27/just-a-nurse/" target="_blank">"Just a Nurse"</a> written by Kateri. It is a concept I know all too well. I am often compared to physicians and nursing is ranked below the practice of medicine too often. The tasks I do on a daily basis are drastically misunderstood by the average person. I think if any one of my friends or family were to shadow me on a typical day in the ICU they would be shocked and amazed to see just what my job entailed.<br />
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I don't just pass out medicine and give bed baths... I help maintain the hemodynamic status of my patients. I take care of patients who are on multiple vasoactive drips, ventilators and highly complex machines to keep their heart, kidneys, and lungs functioning properly. I collaborate with the physicians and surgeons of all services and I have a valued opinion in the healthcare team and knowledgeable input into the lives of my patients. There are even times when I am the one teaching residents about the management of ICU patients. It's a shame that the few nursing roles people identify with are the ones on shows like Grey's Anatomy and such... and more importantly the roles for physicians on those shows are grossly exaggerated. Not saying that physicians aren't obviously vital members of the health care field but lets get real... most doctors I know aren't in the room long enough to learn how to operate the IV pump. (In my unit they aren't even allowed to touch our IV pumps!) Nurses are the ones at the bedside minute by minute.<br />
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I have been the last comforting voice to numerous patients... the last person they see as they transition out of this life. I have held so many hands through panic attacks and given CPR to coding patients who were on the brink of death. I have come home with blood and vomit and urine on my clothes. I have been kicked, hit, spit on, pinched and cussed at too many times to count. I have been apologized to for those same things but not often enough. I have had some wonderful conversations about life in the military and life on the war front. History through the eyes of a veteran is an interesting, inspiring, and heartbreaking thing to see.<br />
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I have sat through slow shifts and had the opportunity to connect with my patients on a much deeper level than just their health. I have connected with the daughter of an alcoholic who had to grow up way too fast. A man who lost his entire family to freak accidents and murders. I have had insane shifts where I was so over it at the end that I went home and had wine for breakfast. I have been angry, frustrated, and am always exhausted at the end of the day.<br />
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I have had more than one friend and family member ask me why I stay. Why do I stay in such a difficult profession? Why do I stay in a hospital that pays the lowest salary in the area? Why do I stay in a hospital that has patients who suffer from PTSD and are combative and sometimes ungrateful.<br />
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Before I became a nurse I was planning on being a missionary in the middle east... specifically Afghanistan. Other than my family... everyone I knew thought it was incredibly noble and special. A calling so particular that despite the dangers and the difficulties of the task... it was a risk that was worth the sacrifice. A sacrifice that could have cost me my life.<br />
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But because I get paid to be a nurse I guess there is this sense that the sacrifice should not be so great? I consider this job my calling and in particular right now I consider veteran's to be the people I need to serve. I just wish people understood that just because my job is incredibly hard... doesn't mean I shouldn't be doing it. Cause seriously... if not me than who? If every singe nurse left because it was too hard or the sacrifice was too great we wouldn't have any left. Well... we might have the ones who only care about the paycheck left but what good does that do? No one <i>really </i>wins. This is why I chose to be a nurse and not a doctor or a missionary.<br />
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As a nurse I have this unique window into the lives of people who are incredibly vulnerable. I not only get to help save their lives by doing my job but I also get to be their comforter, healer, teacher, cheerleader, helper, advocate and voice. I love my job despite its constant sacrifice. The rewards are not always obvious but they are always great. And honestly... if you had a loved one in the hospital wouldn't you be glad to have a nurse who felt the same?<br />
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That is why I stay.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-55998674696629589102013-08-14T11:50:00.002-07:002013-08-14T11:50:36.965-07:00Gluten Free Skinny Cookies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Skinny Cookie Recipe</div>
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<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZD0Qi9AtPawnML_9lbkIGEGFCguuWOBaz4CjLfhEVxFZONQu3MXyN5QWl4p4lqNWh-tgYqH0MMHvhtDBC2yGwNRgg0WTDCSRNtGcGyL4WQ23HjuqbRvxIGLQXhQrV5cbKNvQf7wy_cxe/s400/photo-740804.JPG" /></div>
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Last week I was desperately craving cookies or some form of dessert that was easy and healthy to make. It's been three weeks now that I have been off of work and while I have been thoroughly enjoying the time off... my scale has not. When I'm working I bring really healthy meals and snacks and because that is all I have with me for a 12 hour period that is all I eat. Plus I am usually super busy and running around and then on my break I go run or walk for 30-40 minutes. I'm just much more disciplined when I have a set schedule.<br />
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Being home 24-7 I have access to my fridge and pantry whenever my whim for munching comes on... which is all. the. time. Seriously I am the worst food addict ever... I love food... I enjoy cooking it and reading about it (so many good food blogs!) and coming from an Italian family, food is a huge social thing.<br />
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All that to say that I have been trying to find some healthy alternatives to fun foods and I found a great cookie option that I wanted to share with you all! They have a more chewy consistency than cookies but they are still super delicious.<br />
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<b>15 minute Gluten Free Skinny Cookies</b></div>
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2 ripe bananas</div>
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1 cup gluten free oats (you can use non-GF oats too)</div>
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1/4 cup shredded coconut</div>
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1/4 chocolate chips or dark chocolate chunks</div>
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1/2 teaspoon cinnamon </div>
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Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.</div>
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Slice your bananas up into a bowl and mash them up well enough that you are able to stir them with a fork.</div>
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Stir in your oats, coconut and cinnamon. Add in your chocolate and mix it into the batter.</div>
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(I used this fancy dark chocolate from World Market called Brix and chopped it into little chunks) </div>
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<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaMDPD5_9G1DBE_Sgszlufc_UrA6rrNHV3yt2-36mbw5JrXbw5gcveDr-seaXLi-pZDL9yJiyT_otxdRJssxUasDag8q8YqjERTMnm0oaKF_V5dsjCJaseTiWbQusu-sRExPU3vRIF0R5t/s400/photo-771298.JPG" /></div>
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Spoon about 1-2 tbsp size cookies onto your nonstick cookies sheet and bake for 10-15 minutes. </div>
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You want the cookies to stick together well enough that they can be removed from the sheet easily with a spatula. Cool on a rack and enjoy your healthy cookies!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaOo1JclrQpElCmu4O46Nwts-4xrOjMOwzjL26aM1e0YHBpy4YEmvFInEdakg0Sq8JVah7AGHTXQ9JjVsgDZw3JwlTY1jslivOwAj9gg660JRZ419y79V-8JA66L9Lv-s5Dnbzl3ZcqyHQ/s1600/magicShutterCreation-779120"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5907966233846291906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaOo1JclrQpElCmu4O46Nwts-4xrOjMOwzjL26aM1e0YHBpy4YEmvFInEdakg0Sq8JVah7AGHTXQ9JjVsgDZw3JwlTY1jslivOwAj9gg660JRZ419y79V-8JA66L9Lv-s5Dnbzl3ZcqyHQ/s400/magicShutterCreation-779120" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-58290404749401463492013-08-01T15:23:00.002-07:002013-08-01T15:23:43.094-07:00Shower for Baby A<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This little one we were celebrating has already made her debut into the world. She is so incredibly precious and it is so funny to look back at these photos, which were taken recently and imagining the world without her in it. It was so fun to have a get together and celebrate this new life. :)</div>
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Congratulations<a href="http://kellylgilbert.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> Kelly!!</a> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-82654574009198980632013-07-11T05:19:00.000-07:002013-07-11T05:19:04.450-07:00Random Thoughts of an Insomniac<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Night shift nursing can be brutal sometimes. I have not had a normal night sleep in months. Right now, it is 5:00 am, I slept yesterday from 6:00 pm until 11:00 pm and now I am trying to pass the time by finishing up research for my last project in school. In August I will finish my BSN program and I will never have to attend school again if I don't want! I will probably end up in a Master's program at some point but for now a girl can dream...<br />
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I will also be getting surgery on July 22nd (nothing major, just hand surgery) and will be out of work for a month so I will probably be bored out of my mind the entire month of August. I don't think I have had that much down time since I graduated nursing school in 2009.<br />
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Still, I am looking forward to having some time to do some work projects and catch up with friends and house projects. Sleeping during normal hours will be absolutely divine too. Anyone have any good suggestions for good reading? I just finished "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini and I loved it. I have a few on my list... Unbroken, Game of Thrones... but I am wondering what you all have been reading these days?<br />
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Hopefully, I will get some time to do some photography too... especially since I will be a new honorary auntie any day now! :) Can't wait to meet <a href="http://kellylgilbert.blogspot.com/2013/06/showers.html" target="_blank">this little one!</a> I will have baby shower pictures coming soon. I swear in my other life I was an event planner... okay not really but I do love hosting parties at my home.. which is honestly strange considering how crazy introverted I am. I think it just gives me a reason to be crafty.<br />
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Alright, I'm pretty sure I have 5 Candy Crush lives waiting for me so until next time... send me your book recommendations! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-89334054508847892542013-06-23T09:09:00.000-07:002013-06-23T09:09:00.716-07:00The Art and Science of Nursing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I was in nursing school my teachers would always talk about the "art and science of nursing". The marriage of scientific knowledge and the intuition we have as caring professionals. Back then I understood it on an intellectual level, and I saw it in the experienced nurses who, due to years of hands on nursing, had this way of balancing their care with scientific precision and compassion that drove everything they did. Over the years I have learned it more myself but it wasn't until last night that I realized just what my teachers meant all those years ago.<br />
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When I walked into work last night and saw my assignment, I knew there was a potential to have a rough evening. My patient was a young man I knew well. A guy who had been diagnosed with ALS many years ago... a disease that slowly takes away all ability to move, eat, go to the bathroom and breathe on your own... eventually even takes away the ability to speak. It is fatal and it is characterized by this "trapped syndrome" where your mind is completely alert and aware and yet your body is a hollow shell of what it used to be. In all honesty... ALS is my very worst nightmare.<br />
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I had been told that my patient was at a point in his disease process where he was not willing to participate in nursing care. No turning, no bathing, no suctioning... basically we were there to give pain medicine and offer sips of water and such... but only when he asked. He was still able to talk through his trach, despite being on the ventilator and he would let us know what he did and did not want. Oh great.... I thought to myself... this is gonna be a fun night.<br />
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If I had been given this assignment four years ago when I began my nursing career, I would have had a large amount of anxiety surrounding his decision. As a nurse who knows the implications of not turning your patients (bed sores that go down to the bone) and not suctioning your patient (pneumonia that could kill you) and the list of other things that this guy won't let us do... how do you just not force it on him and take care of him the way I know I should? I remember having these dilemmas as a new grad.<br />
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Now... four years in, I realize that I have begun to understand that age old wisdom my nursing instructors were trying to impart in each one of us. This man that I cared for last night is a man who is <i>dying</i>... not only that but he is dying from a horrible disease that leaves you completely paralyzed<i>. You can control nothing. </i>Not your body, your environment, your position... everything in your life is in the hands of a health care professional that doesn't know you from Adam. And sadly... most of the time, with chronic patients... nurses and doctors avoid them because they can come across as being needy and demanding... all in an effort to cope with the loss of autonomy they have had. So... you are left with a grumpy, isolated patient who tries to demand even more as a reaction to his surroundings and refuses to do the things we know need to be done... and often times you have a nurse who just wants to get in the room and get out.<br />
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So, last night I knew that this is where I needed the art of nursing. Instead of explaining to him why I needed to turn him, I asked him when he wanted his pain medicine. Instead of running out of the room at every chance and trying to just get my work done and get on with my busy day... I sat in the room and watched Ricky Lake and chatted with him about his time in the service. We watched the news and talked about the recent CIA scandals and the depressing state of our government. We laughed over remembering the taste of dimetapp as a kid and I told him about the time I puked all over my poor grandma when she made me drink theraflu when I was sick.<br />
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The funny thing is that I can't remember the last time I had such a good night at work. It was peaceful and slow and it felt good to actually connect with this guy. At the end of the day I was really thankful for him and our time together and I could tell that he was thankful to have a nurse that didn't force him to have his sheets changed or try to convince him that he was getting too much pain medicine. In the end I have a feeling that our time together did more for the both of us than my turning him ever would have. He actually looked happy when I said goodbye to him this morning... and I think it was because someone sat and treated him like a person instead of a patient for once.<br />
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So... four years in I am finally getting it. I'm still learning it and will probably continue to fine tune that artful skill of knowing what lines are hard and fast and which can be blurred around the edges a bit. I will say one thing though... my nursing instructors would be proud :)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03497289912197443753noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6028740467286466743.post-81966847521871432962013-06-16T22:20:00.000-07:002013-06-16T22:20:00.597-07:00Gluten Free Peach Cobbler Recipe <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Over the past two years I have noticed a decline in my lung capacity. My running just hasn't been the same since I had a bout with chronic bronchitis back in late 2011. Despite the many rounds of antibiotics, steroids inhaled and in pill form... nothing has seemed to work and till this day I still have this obnoxious wheeze at the end of my cough. I am slower than ever and my inhaler is my best friend whenever allergy season is here. </div>
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All that to say... my doctor recently told me to go gluten-free thinking maybe it was a gluten or a wheat allergy that was the culprit of my debilitated lungs. I have now been gluten free for a few months and I'm not sure if I'm truly noticing a difference. However, Chris <i>does </i>indeed have a gluten allergy... I have yet to be tested. So, we might as well go down the rabbit hole together and thus the new gluten-free kick.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7Mj7IQLqM_EmYWesysnW3KOmvCuHTxcEBeVmE8VsxGoY6DLTKgsoW166f8qQ55Zb9I-vgVGuhTtK1wNKMbtztJ9CO2_rUSInkrEE11bswN48QHRH2Ms45JvACP5ywDIsXjMeJsmyAD6a/s1600/IMG_7345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7Mj7IQLqM_EmYWesysnW3KOmvCuHTxcEBeVmE8VsxGoY6DLTKgsoW166f8qQ55Zb9I-vgVGuhTtK1wNKMbtztJ9CO2_rUSInkrEE11bswN48QHRH2Ms45JvACP5ywDIsXjMeJsmyAD6a/s640/IMG_7345.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This week I was really craving a cobbler of some sorts... and lets be honest... who doesn't love a good cobbler? Well, since I came across the most wonderfully ripe and brightly colored peaches I couldn't help myself but to buy up 3 pounds worth in hopes of making a gluten free recipe work. I looked up a few gluten-free cobbler recipes and decided I didn't like any of those... so I made my own.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSI_pgPVKoMjOHYYAz6BoDlmzct3Hbx0lpGFKdJneZ30hpWymWcA9nCbvtoV8PAzJ3NSMW0teAlIoPkEokxQKXSP_VJO6FeryjN8VqE0h3auZWx7jfqMs07PARpchBysxTkkQcXnwsiUm5/s1600/IMG_7382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSI_pgPVKoMjOHYYAz6BoDlmzct3Hbx0lpGFKdJneZ30hpWymWcA9nCbvtoV8PAzJ3NSMW0teAlIoPkEokxQKXSP_VJO6FeryjN8VqE0h3auZWx7jfqMs07PARpchBysxTkkQcXnwsiUm5/s640/IMG_7382.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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You could also probably very easily make this recipe work with regular flour if you didn't want to make it gluten free. I used sorghum flour because it is on the sweet side and works well with desserts. </div>
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Gluten Free Peach Cobbler</div>
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6 ripe yellow or white peaches ( I used a mixture of both)</div>
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1/3 cup sorghum flour (could also substitute with all purpose gluten free flour or regular flour)</div>
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1/3 cup gluten free oats </div>
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1/2 cup brown sugar </div>
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1/3 cup butter </div>
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1/2 teaspoon almond extract</div>
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1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract </div>
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2 tablespoons white sugar</div>
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1 teaspoon baking powder</div>
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1/2 tablespoon cinnamon</div>
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1/4 teaspoon nutmeg</div>
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Preheat your oven to 375 degrees. Slice up the peaches in relatively thin slices and line the bottom of your Pyrex or ceramic baking dish. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of the white sugar onto the peaches along with the vanilla and almond extract. </div>
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Mix all of the dry ingredients together in a bowl except 1 tablespoon of the white sugar that is already on the peaches. Cut small tabs of the butter into the dry ingredients and mix together with a fork .</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZmkrMKXZrOroc9uI4yU9rjzCa95Fl5MIpEP9G6gmAtnnteXRQhRFiJiE7C7_4820K5yK8emv80OcK3XyzCm0fO5EfUhtMx26RnLPPNabHjpuHF4BrjY85yIrVmbb44tUkxEX6MbWuhBQ/s1600/IMG_7360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZmkrMKXZrOroc9uI4yU9rjzCa95Fl5MIpEP9G6gmAtnnteXRQhRFiJiE7C7_4820K5yK8emv80OcK3XyzCm0fO5EfUhtMx26RnLPPNabHjpuHF4BrjY85yIrVmbb44tUkxEX6MbWuhBQ/s400/IMG_7360.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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You want it to get crumbly in the bowl so it has that cobbler consistency when you layer it on top of the peaches. </div>
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I cooked the cobbler with the lid of my dish on top. It kept the flour moist but it also made the cobbler pretty runny. If you left it uncovered it might be better but you just have to be careful because many gluten free flours brown very easily. </div>
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Let the dish cook at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes. Check periodically to make sure the top is not burning. </div>
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When you see the juice from the peaches bubbling up, you know it is done. Serve with a side of your favorite vanilla ice cream and voila! Beautiful gluten-free cobbler for dessert. </div>
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Enjoy!</div>
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